Christian Jihad: Two Former Muslims Look at the Crusades and Killing in the Name of Christ

Chapter 1

We Shed No Blood but Our Own

The Early Church and Warfare (a.d. 30–300)

As Christians, we are forbidden to wage war, and that our loyalty to our
country, to humanity, to the Church Universal, and to Jesus Christ our Lord
and Master, calls us instead to a life-service for the enthronement of Love
in personal, commercial and national life.1 —Fellowship of Reconciliation (summer
1914 in Switzerland)

Popular culture—and the world of modern academia—purports that
the early Church, beginning with the institution of the church at Pentecost,
was defiantly pacifist—that is, that Christians refused to participate in any
conflict, including any defensive act of protection.

Are they right?

The history of the Amish, Quaker, and Mennonite communities are built upon
this premise.

The pacifist movement, consisting of millions of mainstream Christians, unites
Christian tradition with the movements of Hinduism, Buddhism, and secular activists.
They cite such church fathers as Tertullian and Origen, such medieval and Reformation
authors as Francis of Assissi and Menno Simons, and such modern Christian authors
as Thomas Merton.

In the United States, pacifist movements have been anchored in such groups
as the American Friends Service Committee, the Fellowship of Reconciliation,
and the Mennonite Central Committee. Those groups and others have joined with
secular pacifists to protest acts perceived as violence to humanity—war, capital
punishment, or defensive armament.

As the Fellowship of Reconciliation (FoR) notes in their history, their justification
is the centrality of Christianity itself:

The FoR was founded in Cambridge in 1914 by a group of pacifist Christians.
During the summer of 1914 an ecumenical conference of Christians who wanted
to avert the approaching war was held in Switzerland. However, war broke out
before the end of the conference and, at Cologne station, Henry Hodgkin, an
English Quaker, and Friedrich Siegmund-Schulze, a German Lutheran, pledged themselves
to a continued search for peace with the words, “We are at one in Christ and
can never be at war.”2

The basis for their formation was explicitly Christian in nature, with references
to the kingdom of Christ rather than nationalistic fervor. They continued the
reasoning:

Inspired by that pledge, about 130 Christians of all denominations gathered
in Cambridge at the end of 1914 and set up the FoR, recording their general
agreement in a statement which became “The Basis” of the FoR, namely:

1. That love as revealed and interpreted in the life and death of Jesus
Christ involves more than we have yet seen, that is the only power by which
evil can be overcome and the only sufficient basis of human society.

2. That, in order to establish a world order based on Love, it is incumbent
upon those who believe in this principle to accept it fully, both for themselves
and in relation to others and to take the risks involved in doing so in
a world which does not yet accept it.

3. That therefore, as Christians, we are forbidden to wage war, and that
our loyalty to our country, to humanity, to the Church Universal, and to
Jesus Christ our Lord and Master, calls us instead to a life-service for
the enthronement of Love in personal, commercial and national life.

4. That the Power, Wisdom and Love of God stretch far beyond the limits
of our present experience, and that he is ever waiting to break forth into
human life in new and larger ways.

5. That since God manifests himself in the world through men and women,
we offer ourselves to his redemptive purpose to be used by him in whatever
way he may reveal to us.

The FoR supported conscientious objectors during World War I and was a supporter
of passive resistance during World War II. In 1919, representatives from a dozen
countries met in Holland and established the International Fellowship of Reconciliation,
which now has many branches on all five continents.3

Is their logic sound?

Is the history of Christianity clearly on the side of peaceful resistance
against all warfare?

Certainly in the context of today’s conflicts on the world stage, such questions
nag Christians even within the military.

It is our premise that, while early Christians certainly did not seek out
conversion through conquest and bloodshed, they did not espouse a pacifistic
stance as purported by modern pacifist theologies.

Instead, the Christian community slowly refined a position that allowed Christian
participation in the military within certain parameters of combat—that defined
as a “just war.” The Christian community moved from social and citizen passivity
to a system that allowed Christians to be in the military. Explicit rules were
designed to keep Christian soldiers from becoming drunk with blood and power.
These rules would come to be known as the Just War criteria.

Tragically, any adherence to such a position was cast aside, once the leaders
determined that holy war was more feasible and profitable than just war. It
is this horrific junction in Church history that led to Christian declarations
of jihad.

Was the Early Church Pacifistic?

In the generations following Jesus Christ’s ascension, pacifism was not held
as an absolute demand of the Lord. Christians tended toward a strong pacifism,
which was ironic, given the various Roman emperors’ proclivity to persecute
them. The more vigorously the various Roman leaders immolated Christians as
human torches, the less appealing any form of violence was to the believers.
Foxe’s Book of Martyrs compiled early church writings about the brutal treatment
of Christians by various emperors, such as Nero (reigned 54–68) and Diocletian
(284–304). At times of local or world persecution, Romans condemned the Christians
of treason, since they were unwilling to offer worship to the emperor as a god
or promise absolute allegiance to his authority.

Under that overall criminality, Christians were assumed to be guilty of various
crimes, many of which reflected their fellowship and doctrines. As early as
a.d. 35, the Roman Senate issued a decree calling the Christians “strana et
illicita,” meaning “strange and unlawful.” They were called cannibals, because
the Lord’s Supper celebration included the words of Jesus Christ: “this is my
body” and “this is my blood” (Matthew 26:26, 28). They were called incestuous,
because they referred to their spouses and children as “brothers” and “sisters.”
Their genuine love for all humanity made them seem seditious to emperors bent
upon world domination.

From this general time period comes a striking description of Christians
that was received by a man identified only as Diognetus:

Christians are not different because of their country or the language they
speak or the way they dress. They do not isolate themselves in their cities
nor use a private language; even the life they lead has nothing strange. . .
. They live in their own countries and are strangers. They loyally fulfill their
duties as citizens, but are treated as foreigners. Every foreign land is for
them a fatherland and every fatherland, foreign.

They marry like everyone, they have children, but they do not abandon their
newborn. They have the table in common, but not the bed. They are in the flesh,
but do not live according to the flesh. . . . They dwell on earth, but are citizens
of heaven. They obey the laws of the state, but in their lives they go beyond
the law. They love everyone, yet are persecuted by everyone. No one really knows
them, but all condemn them. They are killed, but go on living. They are poor,
but enrich many. They have nothing, but abound in everything. But in that contempt
they find glory before God. Their honor is insulted, while their justice is
acknowledged. When they are cursed, they bless. When they are insulted, they
answer with kind words. They do good to others and are punished like evil-doers.
When they are punished, they rejoice, as if they were given life. The Jews make
war against them as if they were a foreign race. The Greek persecute them, but
those who hate them cannot tell the reason for their hatred.4

Among the primary sources, there is no record until the time of Marcus Aurelius
(160–180) of Christians in the military, except those soldiers who were converted
under the apostles. Among the church leaders, it was clear that enlistment in
military was problematic for the Christian, and participation in actual bloodshed
and combat was against the very nature of the Christian life. Regional leaders
such as Justin Martyr in Rome, writing in about 155, and Irenaeus in Gaul writing
in about 180, saw the prophetic dimension of the Christian’s eternal citizenship
as most important, over against participation in any military conflicts. Since
eternity would last longer than any political regime, why should they invest
themselves in warfare, which would demand they shed blood? Certainly the horrific
persecution of the believers by the various emperors caused the Church as a
whole to look somewhat skeptically at believers being forced into military service
by the emperors.

Yet as the Church developed a history, the Christian in the military became
an issue of detailed discussions among such leaders as Arnobius in North Africa
and Lactantius. Clearly by the beginning of the fourth century, Christians were
numbered in the military, as tales of their martyrdom and tomb inscriptions
will attest. The nature and breadth of their service, however, was questioned,
in light of the teachings of Christ concerning enemies on the one hand and loyal
citizenry on the other hand.

While it can be said that this period culminated in the participation of
believers in various armies, the protocols for such involvement did not develop
until the fifth century. What did finally develop differed greatly from the
rules of engagement for an actual “Christian army” that Pope Urban II commanded
hundreds of years later.

Church Voices of Pacifism: Christ Is Returning Soon!

At the dawning of the second century after Christ, the attention of the Church
was focused on the imminent return of Jesus Christ. As Christ had come to literally
transform society and man’s relation to man, this kingdom work left no room
for participation in warfare for his followers. Nowhere can this be more clearly
illustrated than in the writings of Justin Martyr and Irenaeus. Reading the
preserved works of these leaders, one gets the impression that Jesus Christ’s
coming had inaugurated an era of peace. The concept of warfare was, by its nature,
antithetical to Christian life.

Justin Martyr, an apologist and minister writing from Rome around 150, implored
a man named Trypho to understand this radical change in those who were followers
of Jesus Christ. While the children of God may have, at one time, gloried in
the horrors of warfare, they were now completely transformed and could no longer
live by such violence. He notes:

[We] have fled for safety to the God of Jacob and God of Israel; and we who
were filled with war, and mutual slaughter, and every wickedness, have each
through the whole earth changed our warlike weapons,—our swords into ploughshares,
and our spears into implements of tillage,—and we cultivate piety, righteousness,
philanthropy, faith, and hope.5

This shift in lifestyle did not justify the former actions of God’s people,
but it did explain them. Indeed, with painful honesty, Justin cites the previous
tendencies toward violence and the new repulsion to warfare as a sign of the
Christians’ transformed hearts. The implication was clear—to become a believer,
one must lay aside the former ways and become a warrior for peace. In Apologia,
Justin further states:

We who formerly used to murder one another do not only now refrain from making
war upon our enemies, but also, that we may not lie nor deceive our examiners,
willingly die confessing Christ. For that saying, “The tongue has sworn but
the mind is unsworn,” might be imitated by us in this matter. But if the soldiers
enrolled by you, and who have taken the military oath, prefer their allegiance
to their own life, and parents, and country, and all kindred, though you can
offer them nothing incorruptible, it were verily ridiculous if we, who earnestly
long for incorruption, should not endure all things, in order to obtain what
we desire from him who is able to grant it.6

To Justin, the swearing of an oath to a military commander or country was
more than just a violation of Scriptural injunction; it was also short-sighted.
What can the country or emperor offer the soldier in return for his vow and
allegiance? Nothing of any eternal significance. Since the believer has sworn
himself only to Jesus Christ, his allegiance speaks to the inheritance of an
incorruptible and perpetual reward. If death at the hands of those desiring
to force the Christian to kill is the price for this inheritance, Justin argued,
then the victor is actually the vanquished, and the martyr endures only brief
pain.

Irenaeus, a pastor in Lyons, writing shortly after Justin, built upon the
biblical imagery Justin had begun. Also citing Isaiah, Irenaeus continues the
analogy of swords and plowshares. In Against Heresies, he argues that one of
the major purposes for Christ coming to the earth was the complete end of warfare.
Those who continue to fight, even after the conquest of death by Jesus Christ,
are doing so in direct violation of the millennial reign of Jesus Christ. He
noted:

From the Lord’s advent, the new covenant which brings back peace, and the
law which gives life, has gone forth over the whole earth, as the prophets said:
“For out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem;
and he shall rebuke many people; and they shall break down their swords into
ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks, and they shall no longer
learn to fight.”7

In the case of both Justin and Irenaeus, the citation from Isaiah had both
prophetic and messianic connotations. Isaiah himself had said:

In the last days

the mountain of the Lord’s
temple will be established

as chief among the
mountains;

it will be raised above the
hills,

and all nations will
stream to it.

Many peoples will come and say,

“Come, let us go up to the
mountain of the Lord,

to the house of the
God of Jacob.

He will teach us his ways,

so that we may walk
in his paths.”

The law will go out from
Zion,

the word of the Lord
from Jerusalem.

He will judge between the
nations

and will settle disputes
for many peoples.

They will beat their swords
into plowshares

and their spears into
pruning hooks.

Nation will not take up sword
against nation,

nor will they train
for war anymore.8

In the mind of Justin and Irenaeus, the coming of Christ not only brought
redemption, but also a new geopolitical approach—loving your enemies and seeking
peace, over the old ways of war and conquest. Even the preparation for warfare
was paradoxical to the very purpose of the Incarnation.

If the early church fathers felt the pursuit of warfare did not befit the
Christian life, then it would follow that such participation would be a betrayal
of the Lord’s commission. A compatriot of Justin in Rome, Tatian (160), pointedly
declined an invitation to become a military commander. He was clearly disgusted
with the idea that he would have to participate in any type of warfare or conflict:

I do not wish to be a king; I am not anxious to be rich; I declined military
command; I detest fornication; I am not impelled by an insatiable love of gain
to go to sea; I do not contend for chaplets; I am free from a mad thirst for
fame; I despise death; I am superior to every kind of disease; grief does not
consume my soul.9

By associating warfare with such sins as fornication and greed, Tatian suggested
that all such acts are evil. Based on faulty motives and pursuits, the pursuit
of adventure in military conflict is an arrogance (“mad thirst for fame”) of
position, as opposed to a noble act of the defense of freedom.

Church Voices of Pacifism: Our Weapon Is Prayer!

As the Church entered the third century, the position of Christian pacifism
remained intact, but the reasoning for the position slowly shifted. As the years
passed without the return of Jesus Christ, the bishops and theologians began
to teach an ethical pacifism. This position held that warfare and killing was
inconsistent with the Christian’s call to unconditional love of all peoples,
regardless of politics or positions. This view was especially evident in North
Africa, where the bishops were explicit in their admonitions to their churches.

Clement of Alexandria, writing at the dawn of the third century, illustrated
the transformed nature and ethic of the believer. He wrote in a letter entitled
Paedagogus (“The Instructor”),

But let us . . . fulfill the Father’s will, listen to the Word, and take
on the impress of the truly saving life of our Savior. . . . For it is not in
war, but in peace, that we are trained. War needs great preparation, and luxury
craves profusion; but peace and love, simple and quiet sisters, require no arms
nor excessive preparation. The Word is their sustenance.10

His argument was that Christ as our Commander also prepares his troops, except
that our battle is the battle for peace and love. Such training and preparation
is imminently important and vital, and is the clarion call for all believers.
To invert the argument, Christians fighting in a war disobey their own Commander
and are guilty of insubordination for not explicitly following the commands
of God. Our training is for peace, not war.

Clement’s pupil, and the subsequent leader in Alexandria, Origen (230) contributed
to the argument toward Christian pacifism during his famous argument with the
philosopher Celsus. Apparently, Celsus had claimed that, because of Christian
pacifism, the king was “left in utter solitude and desertion” and that “the
affairs of the world fall into the hands of the most impious and wild barbarians.”11
In Contra Celsus 8.69, Origen answers that by praying, Christians are in fact
participating in a higher aim of victory. He advocates,

We say that “if two” of us “shall agree on earth as touching anything that
they shall ask, it shall be done for them of the Father”of the just, “which
is in heaven;” for God rejoices in the agreement of rational beings, and turns
away from discord.12

This weapon of prayer, as designed by the Father, will cause men to put down
arms, which is a far more esteemed victory than slaughter.

In returning to the topic of warfare later in the work, Origen dedicates
an entire chapter to the explanation of their perceived insubordination. In
fact, Origen would argue, Christians are doing their part by praying, which
is the higher call and the more precise weapon. He enjoins:

In the next place, Celsus urges us “to help the king with all our might,
and to labor with him in the maintenance of justice, to fight for him; and if
he requires it, to fight under him, or lead an army along with him.” To this
our answer is, that we do, when occasion requires, give help to kings, and that,
so to say, a divine help, “putting on the whole armor of God.” And this we do
in obedience to the injunction of the apostle, “I exhort, therefore, that first
of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made
for all men; for kings, and for all that are in authority”; and the more any
one excels in piety, the more effective help does he render to kings, even more
than is given by soldiers, who go forth to fight and slay as many of the enemy
as they can.13

Origen regards those who demand military allegiance from the Christians to
be “enemies of our faith.” To that end, he offers two explanations for their
nonparticipation. First he notes that even the priests of pagan temples are
excused from military service. “Do not those who are priests at certain shrines,
and those who attend on certain gods . . . keep their hands free from blood,
that they may with hands unstained . . . offer the appointed sacrifices to your
gods; and even when war is upon you, you never enlist the priests in the army?”14

Secondly, Origen reasons that the warfare that Christians are fighting is
far more dangerous and harmful, because they are battling the demonic realm
itself. In fact, he explicitly states that the common soldier could not fight
such a foe:

If that [military conflict], then, is a laudable custom, how much more so,
that while others are engaged in battle, these too should engage as the priests
and ministers of God, keeping their hands pure, and wrestling in prayers to
God on behalf of those who are fighting in a righteous cause, and for the king
who reigns righteously, that whatever is opposed to those who act righteously
may be destroyed! And as we by our prayers vanquish all demons who stir up war,
and lead to the violation of oaths, and disturb the peace, we in this way are
much more helpful to the kings than those who go into the field to fight for
them.15

As Origen challenges at the end of his letter,

If Celsus would have us to lead armies in defense of our country, let him
know that we do this too, and that not for the purpose of being seen by men,
or of vain glory. For “in secret,” and in our own hearts, there are prayers
which ascend as from priests in behalf of our fellow-citizens.16

In the first two centuries of the Christian church, perhaps no voice was
as forcefully raised against Christian participation in warfare than that of
Tertullian, Cyprian’s predecessor in Carthage. Writing at the beginning of the
second century, Tertullian acknowledged that the question of whether to accept
military personnel into Christian fellowship was an issue. In his opinion, military
service in combat was a real ethical dilemma for a Christian, because all violence
contradicts the Christian life. In his book On Idolatry, he wrote:

Now inquiry is made about this point, whether a believer may turn himself
unto military service, and whether the military may be admitted unto the faith,
even the rank and file, or each inferior grade, to whom there is no necessity
for taking part in sacrifices or capital punishments. There is no agreement
between the divine and the human sacrament, the standard of Christ and the standard
of the devil, the camp of light and the camp of darkness. One soul cannot be
due to two masters—God and Caesar. And yet Moses carried a rod, and Aaron wore
a buckle, and John (Baptist) is girt with leather and Joshua the son of Nun
leads a line of march; and the People warred: if it pleases you to sport with
the subject. But how will a Christian man war, nay, how will he serve even in
peace, without a sword, which the Lord has taken away?17

As can be seen, the entire issue hinged on the question—could a person who
was already a believer enlist in the military, even if their specific task in
the military would not expressly involve the death of another? Tertullian sees
this as an issue of idolatry. To serve in the military, the believer must swear
allegiance to Caesar (the commander), which is impossible since Christians have
sworn allegiance to Jesus Christ. This “dual citizenship” is not allowed in
Tertullian’s position, and would bespeak a negation of any personal faith.

The problem with this dual citizenship is intrinsic to the nature of true
Christianity, for Christ has disarmed all men. Tertullian concludes, “for albeit
soldiers had come unto John, and had received the formula of their rule; albeit,
likewise, a centurion had believed; still the Lord afterward, in disarming Peter,
[unarmed] every soldier. No dress is lawful among us, if assigned to any unlawful
action.”18

Elaborating on this theme further in De Corona Militis, Tertullian expands
the discussion to involve many other forms of military service. In fact, he
lists thirteen reasons why soldiers could not be allowed in the churches.

To begin with the real ground of the military crown, I think we must first
inquire whether warfare is proper at all for Christians. What sense is there
in discussing the merely accidental, when that on which it rests is to be condemned?
Do we believe it lawful for a human oath to be superintended to one divine,
for a man to come under promise to another master after Christ, and to abjure
father, mother, and all nearest kinsfolk, whom even the law has commanded us
to honor and love next to God himself, to whom the gospel, too, holding them
only of less account than Christ, has in like manner rendered honor? Shall it
be held lawful to make an occupation of the sword, when the Lord proclaims that
he who uses the sword shall perish by the sword? And shall the son of peace
take part in the battle when it does not become him even to sue at law? And
shall he apply the chain, and the prison, and the torture, and the punishment,
who is not the avenger even of his own wrongs? Shall he, (therefore), either
keep watch for others more than for Christ, or shall he do it on the Lord’s
day, when he does not even do it for Christ himself? And shall he keep guard
before the temples that he has renounced? And shall he take a meal where the
apostle has forbidden him? And shall he diligently protect by night those whom
in the daytime he has put to flight by his exorcisms, leaning and resting on
the spear the while with which Christ’s side was pierced? Shall he carry a flag,
too, hostile to Christ? And shall he ask a watchword from the emperor who has
already received one from God? Shall he be disturbed in death by the trumpet
of the trumpeter, who expects to be aroused by the angel’s trump? And shall
the Christian be burned according to camp rule, when he was not permitted to
burn incense to an idol, when to him Christ remitted the punishment of fire?19

These thirteen questions all seem to beg a negative answer from Tertullian’s
view. Could a Christian, in good conscience,

1. swear
an oath to another master?

2. be
employed in a vocation that promises reciprocal death (“sword”)?

3. take
part in battle when it is unlawful for him to even go to court?

4. fasten
anyone in chains, when Christ is the only avenger of justice?

5. give
more allegiance to anyone other than Christ (“keep watch”)?

Furthermore, could he,

6. fight
on the Sabbath?

7. guard
pagan temples?

8. eat
forbidden food?

9. protect
the demonic against whom he is to pray?

10. carry
the flag of a regime that persecutes believers?

11. receive
orders from a lesser commander (“watchword”)?

12. wake
to the wrong trumpet?

13. be
buried in an unchristian manner?

Tertullian sees all such acts as an expressed denial of Jesus Christ’s sovereignty
over humanity, and the call for the Christian to act in a manner unfitting to
his changed character. He continues:

Nowhere does the Christian change his character. There is one gospel, and
the same Jesus, who will one day deny every one who denies, and acknowledge
every one who acknowledges God,—who will save, too, the life which has been
lost for his sake; but, on the other hand, destroy that which for gain has been
saved to his dishonor. With him the faithful citizen is a soldier, just as the
faithful soldier is a citizen. A state of faith admits no plea of necessity;
they are under no necessity to sin, whose one necessity is, that they do not
sin. For if one is pressed to . . . the sheer denial of Christ by the necessity
of torture or of punishment, yet discipline does not connive even at that necessity;
because there is a higher necessity to dread denying and to undergo martyrdom,
than to escape from suffering, and to render the homage required.20

Still, an important point must be made here. It seems that Tertullian is
unwilling to completely disallow the Christian service in the military. Instead,
he leaves it to the conscience of the individual fellowships and Christians.
He concludes the chapter:

Touching this primary aspect of the question, as to the unlawfulness even
of a military life itself, I shall not add more. . . . Indeed, if, putting my
strength to the question, I banish from us the military life, I should now to
no purpose issue a challenge on the matter of the military crown. Suppose, then,
that the military service is lawful, as far as the plea for the crown is concerned.21

Church Voices of Pacifism: Take No Blood!

Though it shall be illustrated that Christians were serving in the military
by the third century of the church, the early pastors and ministers in the leading
churches still held to an anti-warfare stance well into the fourth century.
Arnobius, writing around 300, derided all forms of public violence as homicide,
and called Christians to task for even participating in capital punishment trials.
In Against the Heathen, he wrote:

It is not therefore befitting that those who strive to keep to the path of
justice should be companions and sharers in this public homicide. For when God
forbids us to kill, he not only prohibits us from open violence, which is not
even allowed by the public laws, but he warns us against the commission of those
things which are esteemed lawful among men. Thus it will be neither lawful for
a just man to engage in warfare, since his warfare is justice itself, nor to
accuse any one of a capital charge, because it makes no difference whether you
put a man to death by word, or rather by the sword, since it is the act of putting
to death itself which is prohibited. Therefore, with regard to this precept
of God, there ought to be no exception at all but that it is always unlawful
to put to death a man, whom God willed to be a sacred animal.22

To Lactantius, even the testimony of a Christian in a trial which ends in
the death of the accused is sinful, for it is participation in the process of
death, which is to be left to God. Though his view may not have been in the
majority, certainly he indicated a decided distaste for Christian cooperation
in death.

In Book Six of The Divine Institutes, Lactantius takes perhaps the strongest
pacifistic stance among the early church leaders:

For he who reckons it a pleasure, that a man, though justly condemned, should
be slain in his sight, pollutes his conscience as much as if he should become
a spectator and a sharer of a homicide which is secretly committed. . . . So
far has the feeling of humanity departed from the men that when they destroy
the lives of men, they think they are amusing themselves with sport, being more
guilty than all those whose blood-shedding they esteem a pleasure.23

If violence and death is endemic to humankind, how then does the Christian
avoid all contact with acts of violence? As complete isolation is not an option,
the Christian is called upon to provide a visual example of Jesus Christ’s sacrifice
when violence rises. Arnobius (300), writing from northern Africa, calls Christians
to offer themselves in death, rather than cause the death of another human being.
He writes:

For since we, a numerous band of men as we are, have learned from his teaching
and his laws that evil ought not to be requited with evil, that it is better
to suffer wrong than to inflict it, that we should rather shed our own blood
than stain our hands and our conscience with that of another, an ungrateful
world is now for a long period enjoying a benefit from Christ, inasmuch as by
his means the rage of savage ferocity has been softened, and has begun to withhold
hostile hands from the blood of a fellow-creature.24

Though a complete consensus of the opinion of the leadership of the early
church cannot be stated emphatically, the common desire to avoid any participation
in armed conflict is evident. Virtually every bishop who wrote treatises and
addressed the subject spoke passionately against any Christian partaking in
the shedding of blood, innocent or otherwise. Even in the midst of armed conflict,
the Christian’s chief weapon was considered to be that of active prayer and
labor for peace. As citizens of heaven (polituema), this was the Christian’s
most effective service.

Conclusion: The Empathy of the Hunted

If the above ministers actually represented the majority of Christian opinion,
what would the motivating factor for their universal love be? How could they
be so irenic in the face of such a tumultuous time? Perhaps the answer can be
found in the tumult itself. The Christians, in a profoundly visceral way, empathized
with the vanquished.

All the Christians wanted to do was to worship their Savior and to share
his love. Yet, at seemingly every turn, they were confronted with persecution,
hatred, and scorn. While they—this minority band of followers of the Man who
had been crucified—simply sought freedom, they were hounded by conscription
and coercion. Perhaps their sympathy for the defeated foes, even to Rome’s throne,
was actually empathy. They understood only too well what it meant to be on the
receiving end of warfare.

John Foxe’s Book of Martyrs devotes the entire second chapter to stories
he could collect of the horrors of the persecution of the early Christians.
Though it is profoundly disturbing, perhaps it is good for Christians to once
again visit the lives of our forefathers. In this final section of the chapter,
he illuminates the torture of our fellow believers in the ten most intense periods
of early Church persecution. From these selected and edited examples, the reasons
early believers despised bloodshed become evident.

1. The First Persecution, Under Nero (67)

The first persecution of the Church took place in the year 67, under Nero,
the sixth emperor of Rome. This monarch . . . gave way to the greatest extravagancy
of temper, and to the most atrocious barbarities. . . . Nero even refined upon
cruelty, and contrived all manner of punishments for the Christians that the
most infernal imagination could design. In particular, he had some sewed up
in skins of wild beasts, and then worried by dogs until they expired; and others
dressed in shirts made stiff with wax, [were] fixed to axle trees, and set on
fire in his gardens, in order to illuminate them.

2. The Second Persecution, Under Domitian (81)

The emperor Domitian, who was naturally inclined to cruelty, first slew his
brother, and then raised the second persecution against the Christians. . .
.Timothy was the celebrated disciple of St. Paul and bishop of Ephesus, where
he zealously governed the Church until a.d. 97. At this period, as the pagans
were about to celebrate a feast called Catagogion, Timothy, meeting the procession,
severely reproved them for their ridiculous idolatry, which so exasperated the
people that they fell upon him with their clubs, and beat him in so dreadful
a manner that he expired of the bruises two days later.

3. The Third Persecution, Under Trajan (108)

In this persecution suffered . . . [Ignatius,] being sent from Syria to Rome,
because he professed Christ, was given to the wild beasts to be devoured. .
. . Having come to Smyrna, he wrote to the Church at Rome, exhorting them not
to use means for his deliverance from martyrdom, lest they should deprive him
of that which he most longed and hoped for. “Now I begin to be a disciple. I
care for nothing, of visible or invisible things, so that I may but win Christ.
Let fire and the cross, let the companies of wild beasts, let breaking of bones
and tearing of limbs, let the grinding of the whole body, and all the malice
of the devil, come upon me; be it so, only may I win Christ Jesus!” And even
when he was sentenced to be thrown to the beasts, such was the burning desire
that he had to suffer, that he spake, what time he heard the lions roaring,
saying: “I am the wheat of Christ: I am going to be ground with the teeth of
wild beasts, that I may be found pure bread.”

In Mount Ararat many were crucified, crowned with thorns, and spears run
into their sides, in imitation of Jesus Christ’s passion. Eustachius, a brave
and successful Roman commander, was by the emperor ordered to join in an idolatrous
sacrifice to celebrate some of his own victories; but his faith (being a Christian
in his heart) was so much greater than his vanity, that he nobly refused it.
Enraged at the denial, the ungrateful emperor forgot the service of this skillful
commander, and ordered him and his whole family to be martyred.

4. The Fourth Persecution, Under Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (162)

The cruelties used in this persecution were such that many of the spectators
shuddered with horror at the sight, and were astonished at the intrepidity of
the sufferers. Some of the martyrs were obliged to pass, with their already
wounded feet, over thorns, nails, sharp shells, etc. upon their points, others
were scourged until their sinews and veins lay bare, and after suffering the
most excruciating tortures that could be devised, they were destroyed by the
most terrible deaths.

Germanicus, a young man, but a true Christian, being delivered to the wild
beasts on account of his faith, behaved with such astonishing courage that several
pagans became converts to a faith which inspired such fortitude.

Polycarp, the venerable bishop of Smyrna, hearing that persons were seeking
for him, escaped, but was discovered by a child. . . . The proconsul then urged
him, saying, “Swear, and I will release thee; —reproach Christ.”

Polycarp answered, “Eighty and six years have I served him, and he never
once wronged me; how then shall I blaspheme my King, Who hath saved me?” At
the stake to which he was only tied, but not nailed as usual, as he assured
them he should stand immovable, the flames, on their kindling the fagots, encircled
his body, like an arch, without touching him; and the executioner, on seeing
this, was ordered to pierce him with a sword, when so great a quantity of blood
flowed out as extinguished the fire. But his body, at the instigation of the
enemies of the gospel, especially Jews, was ordered to be consumed in the pile,
and the request of his friends, who wished to give it Christian burial, rejected.

5. The Fifth Persecution, Commencing with Severus (192)

Perpetua, a married lady, of about twenty-two years was martyred at this
time. Those who suffered with her were Felicitas, a married lady, big with child
at the time of her being apprehended, and Revocatus, catechumen of Carthage,
and a slave. The names of the other prisoners destined to suffer upon this occasion
were Saturninus, Secundulus, and Satur. On the day appointed for their execution,
they were led to the amphitheater. Satur, Saturninus, and Revocatus were ordered
to run the gauntlet between the hunters, or such as had the care of the wild
beasts. The hunters being drawn up in two ranks, they ran between, and were
severely lashed as they passed. Felicitas and Perpetua were stripped, in order
to be thrown to a mad bull, which made his first attack upon Perpetua, and stunned
her; he then darted at Felicitas, and gored her dreadfully; but not killing
them, the executioner did that office with a sword. Revocatus and Satur were
destroyed by wild beasts; Saturninus was beheaded; and Secundulus died in prison.
These executions were in the year 205, on the eighth day of March.

Speratus and twelve others were likewise beheaded; as was Andocles in France.
Asclepiades, bishop of Antioch, suffered many tortures, but his life was spared.

Cecilia, a young lady of good family in Rome, was married to a gentleman
named Valerian. She converted her husband and brother, who were beheaded; and
the maximus, or officer, who led them to execution, becoming their convert,
suffered the same fate. The lady was placed naked in a scalding bath, and having
continued there a considerable time, her head was struck off with a sword (222).

6. The Sixth Persecution, Under Maximinus (235)

Calepodius, a Christian minister, thrown into the Tyber; Martina, a noble
and beautiful virgin; and Hippolitus, a Christian prelate, tied to a wild horse,
and dragged until he expired. During this persecution, raised by Maximinus,
numberless Christians were slain without trial, and buried indiscriminately
in heaps, sometimes fifty or sixty being cast into a pit together, without the
least decency.

7. The Seventh Persecution, Under Decius (249)

Julian, a native of Cilicia, as we are informed by Chrysostom, was seized
upon for being a Christian. He was put into a leather bag, together with a number
of serpents and scorpions, and in that condition thrown into the sea.

Agatha, a Sicilian lady, was not more remarkable for her personal and acquired
endowments, than her piety; her beauty was such, that Quintian, governor of
Sicily, became enamored of her, and made many attempts upon her chastity without
success. In order to gratify his passions with the greater conveniency, he put
the virtuous lady into the hands of Aphrodica, a very infamous and licentious
woman. This wretch tried every artifice to win her to the desired prostitution;
but found all her efforts were vain; for her chastity was impregnable, and she
well knew that virtue alone could procure true happiness. Aphrodica acquainted
Quintian with the inefficacy of her endeavors, who, enraged to be foiled in
his designs, changed his lust into resentment. On her confessing that she was
a Christian, he determined to gratify his revenge, as he could not his passion.
Pursuant to his orders, she was scourged, burnt with red-hot irons, and torn
with sharp hooks. Having borne these torments with admirable fortitude, she
was next laid naked upon live coals, intermingled with glass, and then being
carried back to prison, she there expired on February 5, 251.

8. The Eighth Persecution, Under Valerian (257)

Began under Valerian, in the month of April 257, and continued for three
years and six months. The martyrs that fell in this persecution were innumerable,
and their tortures and deaths various and painful. The most eminent martyrs
were the following, though neither rank, sex, nor age were regarded.

Stephen, bishop of Rome, was beheaded in the same year, and about that time
Saturninus, the pious orthodox bishop of Toulouse, refusing to sacrifice to
idols, was treated with all the barbarous indignities imaginable, and fastened
by the feet to the tail of a bull. Upon a signal given, the enraged animal was
driven down the steps of the temple, by which the worthy martyr’s brains were
dashed out.

9. The Ninth Persecution, Under Aurelian (274)

Faith, a Christian female, of Acquitain, in France, was ordered to be broiled
upon a gridiron, and then beheaded (287).

Quintin was a Christian, and a native of Rome, but determined to attempt
the propagation of the gospel in Gaul, with one Lucian, they preached together
in Amiens. Quintin remained in Picardy, and was very zealous in his ministry.
Being seized upon as a Christian, he was stretched with pullies until his joints
were dislocated; his body was then torn with wire scourges, and boiling oil
and pitch poured on his naked flesh; lighted torches were applied to his sides
and armpits; and after he had been thus tortured, he was remanded back to prison,
and died of the barbarities he had suffered, October 31, 287. His body was sunk
in the Somme.

10. The Tenth Persecution, Under Diocletian (303)

Victor was a Christian of a good family at Marseilles, in France; he spent
a great part of the night in visiting the afflicted, and confirming the weak;
which pious work he could not, consistently with his own safety, perform in
the daytime; and his fortune he spent in relieving the distresses of poor Christians.
He was at length, however, seized by the emperor Maximian’s decree, who ordered
him to be bound, and dragged through the streets. During the execution of this
order, he was treated with all manner of cruelties and indignities by the enraged
populace. Remaining still inflexible, his courage was deemed obstinacy. Being
by order stretched upon the rack, he turned his eyes toward heaven, and prayed
to God to endue him with patience, after which he underwent the tortures with
most admirable fortitude. After the executioners were tired with inflicting
torments on him, he was conveyed to a dungeon. In his confinement, he converted
his jailers, named Alexander, Felician, and Longinus. This affair coming to
the ears of the emperor, he ordered them immediately to be put to death, and
the jailers were accordingly beheaded. Victor was then again put to the rack,
unmercifully beaten . . . and again sent to prison. Being a third time examined
concerning his religion, he persevered in his principles; a small altar was
then brought, and he was commanded to offer incense upon it immediately. Fired
with indignation at the request, he boldly stepped forward, and with his foot
overthrew both altar and idol. This so enraged the emperor Maximian, who was
present, that he ordered the foot with which he had kicked the altar to be immediately
cut off; and Victor was thrown into a mill, and crushed to pieces with the stones.

Timothy, a deacon of Mauritania, and Maura his wife, had not been united
together by the bands of wedlock above three weeks, when they were separated
from each other by the persecution. Timothy, being apprehended as a Christian,
was carried before Arrianus, the governor of Thebais, who, knowing that he had
the keeping of the Holy Scriptures, commanded him to deliver them up to be burnt;
to which he answered, “Had I children, I would sooner deliver them up to be
sacrificed, than part with the Word of God.” The governor being much incensed
at this reply ordered his eyes to be put out, with red-hot irons, saying, “The
books shall at least be useless to you, for you shall not see to read them.”
His patience under the operation was so great that the governor grew more exasperated;
he, therefore, in order, if possible, to overcome his fortitude, ordered him
to be hung up by the feet, with a weight tied about his neck, and a gag in his
mouth. In this state, Maura his wife, tenderly urged him for her sake to recant;
but, when the gag was taken out of his mouth, instead of consenting to his wife’s
entreaties, he greatly blamed her mistaken love, and declared his resolution
of dying for the faith. The consequence was, that Maura resolved to imitate
his courage and fidelity and either to accompany or follow him to glory. The
governor, after trying in vain to alter her resolution, ordered her to be tortured,
which was executed with great severity. After this, Timothy and Maura were crucified
near each other (304).

Notes

1. “Fellowship
of Reconciliation, England (1916–1992),” in the British Library of Political
and Economic Science, COLL MISC 0456. Found in many collections, and on the
web at library-2.lse.ac.uk/archives/handlists/Fellowship/m.html. Accessed October
16, 2003.

12. Origen,
Contra Celsus 8.69, in ANF, 5:666. Origen also illustrates that the Lord to
whom they are praying is the one who said to the Hebrews, “The Lord shall fight
for you and ye shall hold your peace.” This citation from Exodus 14:14 (kjv)
seemed to indicate a complete pacifism, which then calls God to the task of
vengeance.

13. Ibid.,
8.73.

14. Ibid.

15. Ibid.

16. Ibid.

17. Tertullian,
On Idolatry 19, in ANF, 3:73.

18. Ibid.

19. Tertullian,
De Corona Militis 11, in ANF, 3:99–100.

20. Ibid.
Tertullian sees the Roman homage as a violation. He continues, “In fact, an
excuse of this sort overturns the entire essence of our sacrament, removing
even the obstacle to voluntary sins; for it would be possible also to maintain
that inclination is a necessity, as involving in it, forsooth, a sort of compulsion.”